Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty panes of the antique shop. Sarah held the letter close, the paper brittle and thin. Her grandmother's resignation from the choir. A carefully crafted statement citing "personal reasons." Lies. Sarah had known the truth, whispered conversations and hushed tears. The choir director, a man of power and influence, had made her grandmother's life hell.

Her knuckles were white as she clutched the letter. She had spent years watching him, observing his carefully constructed facade of piety. Today, she had the perfect opportunity to strike. The annual church picnic was in full swing, and Sarah, a new member, was assigned to the punch bowl. She smiled, a cold, hard smile.